The Blame's on You
by noukinav018
Summary: Molly was always perceived as an open human being.Of course, this didn't mean she mentioned everything about her. She couldn't understand the boys in 221B Baker Street & was surprised with Sherlock's latest behaviour. Had it been another man, she would have thought that she received special attention.But that was impossible right? Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.


**Thanks again for all the amazing people who read and reviewed my previous one shots. If you still haven't, you're welcomed to do it anytime. I really love having feedback; it is a motivation to try it better next time. I truly appreciate it!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Sherlock (sniffs). I'm just borrowing these brilliant characters. All credit goes to Sir Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. I only own my idea. Besides, all of this is for the fun of writing.**

**Summary: Molly was always perceived as an open human course, this didn't mean she mentioned everything about her. She couldn't understand the boys in 221B Baker Street sometimes. She was surprised with Sherlock's late behaviour. Had it been another man, she would have thought that she received special attention. But that was impossible right? Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.**

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><p><strong>THE BLAME'S ON YOU<strong>

Molly was always perceived as an open human being. Of course, this didn't mean she mentioned every bit she did to the whole world. She liked to keep her privacy for good measure. Besides, she was not keen about having people scrutinizing her every single hour of each passing day. In that particular she couldn't understand the boys in 221B Baker Street. They didn't appear to be uncomfortable with all the attention they got after John blogged on their latest cases being solved.

Pity he couldn't post the whole shebang due to the censorship of the own British government and as a safety measure to ensure everyone would still be alive the next day.

She was lucky she got to listen the unrevised version of it and was privy to all the details around each puzzle they unraveled.

John Watson was truly an admirable character. He had managed to do what no one had accomplished in the past. He was able to truly help Sherlock change for the greater good. His patience combined with a very acute appreciation for responsibility made the detective ponder on stuff he didn't even care about before. Maturity was perhaps a very farfetched idea in his personality. There were occasions she was truly lost and didn't know what to do with the man. She cared for him a lot despite his indifference. At the beginning it was so easy for him to wound her with everything he did. Later on, she had come to accept that Sherlock would never consider her more than just a loyal friend. She resented the fact that such concept was not applied to Irene Adler… Considering the type of life both women had, it hurt her she never caught the eye of the brilliant investigator.

Yet, there were instances she was surprised with Sherlock's behaviour. Had it been another man, she would have thought that she was being given attention from the opposite sex in the usual subtle fashion. But it was impossible he would do that right? Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her.

Seven weeks ago, he came around to her lab after a case was deciphered. He apparently had nothing to do and remained observing her as it was the most common thing in this universe. She thought he came around to do some experiment instead then. When she asked him if he required of any specific equipment or body parts he shook his head.

After an hour of silence and remarkable awkwardness, she announced she was going to the cafeteria for a well deserved break. She also asked if he wanted her to bring him something and Sherlock limited himself once more to shake his head. He did not speak, he did not ask for anything even after she was back from her temporary rest . He was just there inspecting her as if she was the most fascinating person in the room. He was too quiet and that puzzled Molly exceedingly. She was meaning to ask what was wrong with him. She was starting to think that perhaps he was going to prank her any second. Though no trick came to happen either.

The next week was also charged with odd ocurrences. The first one was after the usual visits from John and Sherlock. While the good doctor left to talk to his wife Mary, his aloof friend stayed in the lab when she was cleaning some test tubes and finishing to write some reports that she ought to send that same day. The situation totally baffled her to say the least. She saw that he was focused on thinking. That was nothing out of the ordinary. Sherlock's usual calls to his Mind Palace were like this. She was not meaning to interrupt him, but she had to get some of the papers that were near him. For such a feat, she approached silently to avoid any kind of interruptions to the man. She did not want Sherlock snapping at her for distracting him from whatever it was he was busy with.

His absolute gaze of concentration was broken as she was removing the papers from his discarded gloves and he violently jerked to look at her, he was in a state of shock. As if he had discovered something outrageous or too disquieting. He couldn't mask his sudden surprise and stuttered. Sherlock stammering was an incomprehensible sight to behold. What on Earth was going on in that mind of his? If it was another person, she would have thought he was nervous. But that sounded absurd to her own ears. Or maybe he was just so caught up in his contemplations that he didn't process correctly how nearby she was to begin with.

She immediately apologized for startling him and was going to ask him if he wanted coffee for himself. It never came to pass, as he only said that he had to leave. He didn't even say goodbye.

Later that day, he showed up with a box of her favourite chocolates and imported ice tea. How did he find out she loved Hershey kisses special dark or ice tea? She had no idea and frankly, it didn't matter. They were just splendid and a guilty pleasure of hers ever since she took a trip to Philadelphia with some of her American uni friends. She had been so happy and what she did to show it had obviously stunned him.

In the midst of her delight she had impulsively hugged him and squealed in appreciation, going as far as kissing his cheek. She felt him stiffened and noticed he flushed a bit, his mouth opened with no sound escaping from his lips. He barely nodded and she then proceeded to disentangle herself from him blushing at her own actions. Unfortunately, she couldn't see his facial features in that instant. When she looked up at him once more, he was facing her opposite direction and making a swift exit without a word. She guessed that it was probably the result of an epiphany on his latest case. She saw him scowling at his mobile phone before he opened the door. Whoever had texted him had evidently upset him and… there was another feeling in that expression of his that Molly did not comprehend. She was beginning to worry for her friend and as she kept studying him, Sherlock chose to look back at her discreetly, ready to abruptly face the door and depart.

That same week another incident followed. Sherlock had his own puzzles and now she had her own mystery. How ironic and poetic that the enigmatic detective was the case of her own personal study now. The next day she was gladly not alone, but in the company of the Watsons. Molly spotted a silent exchange between the two friends and a Mary Watson trying to contain a smile excellently, but failing as she saw how she fought to keep the corners of her mouth from turning. Sherlock persisted to be unusually quiet though. Molly also discovered that John was taken aback and amused for some invisible reason.

In the end, they all decided to have dinner together in the Watsons home by Mary's invitation. John had also insisted on her going as he had already invited Sherlock as well.

Two weeks later though, events had escalated from one point to another in a matter of seconds astounding her senseless. She didn't even remember how everything began.

Lately she had been spending more time with Sherlock. She was able to see him on a daily basis. He would make an entrance with some lunch just as if he knew she was too busy to walk out of her working spot. He always brought her the meals that she loved. She felt pampered, but she figured he did it as a tactic to ask for a favour or two from her. At least he asked it amicably without trying to manipulate her now. Somehow, their relationship as friends and colleagues had splendidly progressed. The only thing that was nagging at the back of her mind was his abrupt transformation to a reticence that was beginning to put her on edge.

She felt his insistent gaze on her. Unnervingly, this didn't bother her itself. What unsettled her was the reason behind his routinely inspection. She noticed just now how he spent listening to anything she had to say. He was constantly testing her apparently and trying to know her professional assessment in different subjects of her expertise. Also, he paid attention to her own personal opinion regarding other mundane topics. He seemed to be in the mission of learning how her mind specifically worked in every little circumstance. Hence, the motive she remained answering his questions. Precise enquires she would say…

Up to date, Sherlock had already been received as a visitor in her own flat. She was still trying to process that the detective was in the middle of her own private space every now and then. She couldn't shake off the sensation of feeling exposed in the presence of such an mystifying man. That gift of his left nothing she could even attempt to hide. She also felt rather foolish to even try to do so. All the history they had together as colleagues should have taught her better by now.

It only took her an instant to get distracted by the ringtone coming from her mobile phone. The music waves were very soft and that's when she remembered where she put her phone to begin with. So, she went running to her bedroom in her flat to get the fateful call. Luckily it was only her sister checking up on her. She put the device back on her vanity and started her walk back to the living room only to be stopped by Sherlock himself at her bedroom's door.

In his hands, he held her personal tablet and he was entranced by whatever he was inspecting.

She was surprised and asked him with wariness of what he was doing with her device.

In turn, he gaped at her and that made her feel uneasy. She dreaded to ask the cause behind his stupefied visage. She took advantage of his distraction and watched the tablet screen.

It was covered by some very personal photographs of her in ludicrously revealing knickers and silk jim jams. She had unwittingly given in to have that ill-omened photography session in order to help her cousin and her friend with their uni project two years ago. She had been uncomfortable with the idea, but felt guilty and ended taking the most sinful photographs of her life.

She admitted she had fun with her cousin's friend, who happened to be the make up artist in charge of her clothes as well. In fact, they managed to convince her to pose in the most outrageous ways. After they finished everything, they sent her a digital and printed copy of the whole photo shoot. She had insisted that it wasn't necessary, but the two girls were too stubborn for her to keep opposing them.

Oh no.

BLOODY HELL NO.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES! STOP!" Molly had lost all her faculties of self-restrain and with a violent tug clutched the tablet from the befuddled man in front of her… Only to have him yank it back insistently. His expression turned neutral again and his gaze was on the embarrassed mousy woman.

"Molly let go. I haven't finished looking at those photographs." He strided into her bedroom and sat on her bed.

She gaped in disbelief, her mouth opened widely over the shock. As she continued in her stupor, internally she just wished she could make the tablet explode. She wanted to hide, shout and cry. Why did she have the misfortune of being constantly humilliated by the same man? Her memory lane catching up with her at the moment didn't help either. She tried to push everything away, but she just couldn't anymore. It was too much.

She remembered when Sherlock openly mocked her in the presence of Mycroft Holmes and John Watson when she wasn't around. It was all thanks to her enforced sense of tidiness. She had meant to give him the special equipment he had requested only to overhear him ridiculing her. She heard Mycroft couldn't contain his laughter. Only John had refrained and looked at her in horror. Sherlock had been so caught up in the cruel joke, that he hadn't even notice her. Molly then had left Saint Barts with their mirth resonating in her ears and tears running down her face. She had felt so small and belittled, and it felt immensely worse than her problems back home. Later that day John had texted her and called her to make her feel better. She discovered a new understanding friend in the ex-army doctor. He was everything his best friend was not. He truly managed to listen to her and didn't make the demands Sherlock was used to. Since then, John and her had a growing and steady friendship that held together her sanity. John could tell when to push and when to step back. He could give her a verbal slap in the face when she needed it, but also he was constantly gentle with her. He was made of a much sterner nature that could withstand the detective's thoughtless jabs too. That was not her case though… She was so fragile for such a harsh and clueless man as him.

Moreover, Sherlock permanently employed the same routine to tease her over the most sensitive topics in her life. He was so calculating and knew how to leave her mentally numb in grief or despair. How he constantly got away with what he wanted, despite her knowing what he regulary did. How could she not? She just wanted to keep the peace and quiet in the world. An unhappy Sherlock, was worse than a storm and when he was bored; God help them all he did the most ridiculous and outrageous things. She didn't need an experiment gone wrong if she could prevent it.

Now here she stood in front of her incessant dilemma. She made her decision in anger and sent a punch to his chest. The man caught her hand effortlessly, managing to put the tablet on the matress. He eyed her carefully and pulled her towards his own spot on the bed. His eyes betrayed confusion for an instant and then they were devoid of emotion once more. "Why are you upset Molly Hooper? I don't understand."

The woman in question felt the pulsing on her temples becoming stronger by the second. She was in complete incredulity. Was this…this human being genuinely daft? How was it possible for someone of his intelligence that puts perilous criminals behind bars over and over so foolish simultaneously? It should be impossible to be brilliant and stupid all at once. No, it should be a crime. It was ridiculous really and she was part of the absurdity to top it all. Her cheeks flared a deep red from her contained ire and yelled. She was done being nice despite the unceasing affront. She was absolutely done holding back all of her thoughts in the name of maturity. She was so done with fighting against her most dangerous impulses in favour of an unyielding diplomacy. She was not going to let Sherlock bloody Holmes step on her as he pleased.

"William Sherlock Holmes you are an idiot!"

Sherlock gasped. He opened and closed his mouth. His own question sounded low to his own ears.

"What?" He knew that this was not good, but had no idea how to stop it.

"Oh you heard me!" Molly pushed the man further to extricate herself from her current position. No such luck as it only resulted in the infamous gravity working against her. Now it seemed as if she was straddling Sherlock in her own bed, which she was definitely not doing.

Very much aware of their proximity she tried pulling herself away to no avail. She was breathing heavily in frustration and fury. It did not help he had gotten her too close to his own face either. Her hands were still in his firm grip, but he was not physically harming her.

"Let go you… you idiot!"

Sherlock remained staring unfalteringly and for the life of her, she had no idea what was going on in that mind of his. He spoke softly to her in return.

"I've angered you"

"Really? I wouldn't have known if you didn't bring the matter to my attention. Of course you've angered me you fool! NOW… let. me. go!"

He made an noncommittal sound after her little tirade. His eyes narrowed in inspection and then his expression was closed off for the umpteenth time, his tone was disturbingly sharp.

"I see." That caught Molly's attention and she knew he was up to something incredibly reckless. Like she had challenged him without noticing it. Her mind was screaming her to do something and fast. She couldn't give him the upper hand.

And while she was trying to figure a way out, without warning he flipped both of them and Molly let out a squeak when she realised it. Sherlock was on top of her observing the usually chirpy pathologist, now a nervous wreck in his presence. His hands gripped her own palms and his own weight incapacitated the woman from any further movement on the mattress.

"What the hell Sherlock?! Let go of me!"

"No."

"No?"

He shook his head to confirm his previous statement and it only confused her more.

"You look pretty."

Molly's eyes were in the danger of falling out of her skull. Her mouth was hanging open. She knew she could not speak without sputtering now, but she tried nonetheless.

"Whaa.. What ddd… did y.. you say?"

"I want to kiss you"

Ok, so she was definitely going mad. Was she hallucinating? Was this a part of some cruel joke? If that was the case she wanted to wake up from this distorted and disturbing fantasy. She needed to think of a proper reply before it was too late. Who was she kidding? She was not currently thinking like a rational person.

"NO. Don't you dare!"

He did not listen to her and got dangerously near, she could feel his own breathe at this point. She immediately turned her face to the side. She did it several times and he was still unmoving. He exhaled in annoyance.

"Woman, why are you always so difficult?"

That did the trick and she was ready for a swift response, only for it to die in her throat as Sherlock kissed her for the first time… She did not kiss him back though. She was in too much of a shock to even respond. That didn't deter him from giving his opinion on it.

"You're a terrible kisser Molly Hooper. If someone kisses you, you ought to kiss them back."

She felt numb and he took it as an opportunity to kiss her again, which she responded to out of reflex. She felt something within her shift and an emptiness enveloped her. She had the urge to cry, but contained her angry tears.

She didn't notice he had let go of her and he resumed his place at the doorway with the previously discarded tablet.

Molly turned to look at him and began laughing. It was hollow attempting to mask her emotions. She continued to stare at him and he rolled his eyes.

"So we kissed. Big deal, what's the worse that can happen?"

She snorted "Why in hell did you do that Sherlock?"

He replied without even facing her "Isn't that what you wanted Molly?"

Molly shook her head to reign the storm inside of her own head.

"Enlighten me." She couldn't believe she was being amused by his antics even if it was at her expense. His next words however, were what became a turning point in Molly's life.

"When was the last time that you kissed a man anyway? You could at least be grateful. "

Nothing could have prepared the pathologist for that response. In fact, she may always remember it during her entire existence. Was this the way comatosed patients remained? Alien to the world around them? Words escaped her. She repeated the words as if she was trying to understand the full meaning of them again, her voice cracked.

"I should… be grateful?"

He remained busy in the tablet probably checking updates on his ongoing case "You repeating things won't change them Molly. Are you an idiot?"

Her voice had diminished considerably by now and she feared breaking down in front of him "Indeed, everything will remain unchanged…"

Sherlock gazed at her curiously "What do you mean Molly?"

She stood up from the bed. Her confusion was all gone and all her wrath came to shield her. Something deep within her had been broken the moment he prattled to her and she knew what she had to do. It would pain her, but it was necessary for her to move on.

"What do I mean? Are you really this daft Holmes?"

The tension was immense and it sent alarm bells to Sherlock. Had he pushed it too far this time?

"I don't understand…"

She grinned forcefully, which unnerved Sherlock to say the least. She began walking to a safe distance and proceeded to list all of his offenses against her.

"You showed up in my flat unannounced. I let you in. You went and took my tablet without my consent. Then without my permission you saw photographs that were not for you to look at. I tried to get my device from you and you wouldn't give it back to me…"

He was going to speak, but she stopped him raising her palm in midair and she continued. "You held me against my will even after I told you not to do it. You kissed me against my will twice, called me a bad kisser. Not that I mind, but other men wouldn't say that to a woman they care about. Obviously you don't care about me. You should at least act as if you did. It's what common sensitive people do."

"Molly!" Sherlock was appalled by all her list so far and she had steely expression in her eyes for him to remain in silence. It was the first time she ever sported that coldness while he was around.

"No Sherlock. Let me continue. Oh yeah, after all of these offenses you tell me in the most callous way that I SHOULD BE GRATEFUL TO YOU. Why should I be grateful to YOU? Because you pity me and out charity tried to snog me? Is that it? Did I miss anything?!"

"Molly…"

"How much arrogance do I have to put up with from you?! You self-absorbed and conceited clot! You had the audacity to pull your self-importance on me for far too long. You just wanted to toy with me and you did it with cruelty a lot of times, you mocked me in my face and behind my back. You are still toying with me and still want to pretend you did nothing to harm me…"

"Molly, please stop!" He took a step forward and Molly took a step back and warned him to uphold his distance from her.

"I do not rub in your face what I've done for you. Everything that I did was because I cared, and not for the others to even notice it. I do not need to be the centre of attention as you so love to be! And the most important thing of all: I do not manipulate people to get what I want. So let me return the favour you just did for me and use your words smartly against you: I'd be very grateful if our friendship is over. I also will be so grateful if you get out of my flat and my life as well. Take your bloody compassion with you on your way out, because frankly I'd rather have John Watson as my friend instead of you."

Sherlock also cotinued to reign on his temper, but was losing his own battle too."What does John have to do with any of this?"

"You don't even get it, do you? John is everything you are not. You're like the Moon and the Sun. Mary is a very fortunate lady."

He approached her and was uncomfortably close to Molly "You're speaking in riddles. If you could just…"

She couldn't take it anymore and slapped him. He stood still stupefied, his palm was on his cheek in an effort to process what just happened.

"GET OUT."

He had a lump in his throat and was unable to answer. The longest minute passed for him before he uttered his last words to her. His voice sounded broken and alarmingly low "Goodbye, Molly Hooper."

He did as she requested and stormed out of her room. Then she heard how he slammed the door on his way out.

Molly paced unsteadily to her vanity and saw her face was bereft of colour. Tears were starting to mar her countenance. Her hands and legs trembled uncontrollably. She sank to her knees and was on the floor sobbing. Her back was precauriously supported by the wall. After she managed to control her weeping she also said her own parting words to the man she had cherised in defiance of her better judgment.

"Goodbye, Sherlock."

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><p><strong>Author's note: There you have it! Please review after you're done reading and let me know your thoughts. I really appreciate feedback as I enjoy giving it every time I go through a story. <strong>

**Happy reading and writing to all of you :)**

**—Noukinav018—**


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